Insania
by HorcruxesandHallows
Summary: Fenrir Greyback questions the life Fanfiction has chosen for him.


**Insania**

Fenrir Greyback stared into the fire before him. His feet, now toasty warm, were in need of his slippers, which unfortunately were upstairs, so, as was custom in the Greyback household, he called for his wife.

"Mary!" he called, and repeated this once more, for, though she claimed to be turning deaf, he suspected her to have a case of selective deafness as she had not yet turned thirty.

His wife, Mary, appeared in the doorway with a serene smile on her face, and he felt his heart swell at the sight of her. Fenrir Greyback had, in his past, been a cold, unfeeling monster, the very stuff of nightmares, entirely incapable of love nor feeling, but now he was a gentleman, of a kind and gentle nature. His wife, Mary, had seen to that.  
Though she had been a Mudblood, they had fallen into a not-so-unusual love, for, at the time, love between a snatcher and a mudblood was actually quite fashionable. Fenrir's then prisoner had melted his ice-cold heart, softened his sin-filled soul, and smoothed his rough outer-edges.

"Fetch me my slippers," said Fenrir to his wife.

His wife, Mary, blinked her dazzling chocolate orbs that were her eyes and tilted her head to one side. She then rolled her eyes. "Shan't you say please?" she asked him.

A vein twitched in Fenrir Greyback's temple. He should say please - he knew it to be polite - but he remembered a day when he would have broken this woman's neck for even suggesting such a thing. Instead, in order to be as dramatic as possible, he leapt from his chair and turned to face his darling wife.

"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, though his wife, rather used to such outbursts by now, failed to bat even a single eyelid. "I shall not say please!" Then, as was usual in such a situation, Fenrir Greyback refused to be a gentleman; which, as terrible as this may sound, included the use of loose vowels. "I ain't gonna say please!"

His wife gasped and placed a hand upon her chest. "Fenrir!" she cried, rolling her eyes once more. "Please do quieten your voice!"

"No!" Fenrir near wailed in response. "I ain't taking this no more! I am a fearsome beast!"

"Fenrir, stop, please!" His wife clapped her hands about her ears and shook her head. "What if the neighbours were to hear your poor grammar and lack of enunciation?"

"You can tell the neighbours to go and shove their heads up a donkey's arse!"

His wife gasped at the scandalous words pouring from Fenrir Greyback's mouth. It was as though her eyes might disappear in the back of her head she was rolling them so much, despite the severe annoyance cause by this repeated act. Yet her horror was not entirely genuine, for this particular event happened once every other week, and had done ever since their marriage six years ago. Mary-Sue Greyback was not perturbed by her husband's fortnightly tantrum, for Mary-Sue Greyback had dealt with far worse in her simple yet completely extraordinary life.

Mary-Sue Greyback had had a life tragic beyond human imagination: countless deaths of loved ones, including her mother; beaten by her father who blamed her for her mother's death; and, of course, most traumatic of all, she had the unrelenting burden of being so pale and ordinary in appearance, yet incredibly beautiful, dazzlingly so - loved by all, coveted by all - with hair that shimmered in the sunlight, chocolate brown to match her chocolate brown eyes (for serious lack of another adjective), clear skin of snow white, nose and lips and mouth and cheekbones, each so perfect they would seem to have been carved by gods themselves, and a body so hot one could actually fry an egg upon it.

As a child Mary-Sue had been quiet and withdrawn - socially awkward some might say - yet she had been, by far, the most intelligent of her class, and this had remained so through all of her schooling until Hogwarts, where she learned of her destiny to defeat the most feared wizard of all time: Lord Voldemort. Mary-Sue would have fulfilled her destiny too had it not been for the callous acts of Fenrir Greyback and his gang of snatchers, who had snatched her in the winter of 1998, rather implausibly mistaking her for a Mudblood. But it was during her imprisonment that Mary-Sue became to know Fenrir Greyback, the man who kept her in a cage night and day, who hit her whenever he saw fit, and fed her only upon water and the occasional chicken leg, and they fell into a love so deep that neither could escape, no matter how hard they tried. And it was true love, not, as would be much more realistic, the result of any form of syndrome.

"Fenrir!" Mary-Sue Greyback said in her best shouty voice, stamping her foot upon the floor in a most mature and dignified manner.

Fenrir Greyback scowled and cut off his wife before she could re-commence with her screeching. "This ain't gonna be like last time!" he insisted. "I'm leaving you. Right now! I know it's raining outside, and I know I'll probably catch meself a cold, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

"Now, I ain't gonna kill you, 'cause you been so nice to me..."

Mary-Sue interrupted her husband with a wave of her slender hand. "You can't kill me anyway, darling," she said simply. "On account of me being a Veela-Vampire Hybrid, which does go against your very nature as a werewolf, to love a blood-sucking leech such as me, but I think it really emphasises how star-crossed we truly are as lovers."

Fenrir Greyback blinked and shook his head, refusing to comment on this sudden revelation which would not be expanded upon for the remainder of the story. "You know what I mean!" he shouted calmly. "Putting up with me and cooking for me and all that. You've been great. Nobody makes duck like you do, all lovely and juicy... And when you make steak and you cut into it and blood spurts everywhere..." He paused for a moment and brought a handkerchief from his pocket to mop the salivation from his mouth. Mary-Sue, as she had not done so in at least three minutes, took the opportunity to roll her eyes, which sparkled like diamonds as she did. "Course it's also nice to have sex on tap," Fenrir continued. "And you know I love it when you do that thing with your tongue in my ear..."

He allowed his voice to trail off, aware that his wife, Mary-Sue Greyback, had moved to stand before him, and his bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

"I just want to be feared," he said weakly. "I want people to run from me screaming for God to save them. I want to be chased by torches and pitchforks! Just like old times."

Mary-Sue Greyback reached out to take her husbands hand. "You are feared," she said calmly. "I fear you. You're my grizzly grizzly bear."

Fenrir's mouth widened into a smile. "Really?" he said quietly, if a little pathetically, as he gave his wife's hand a small squeeze.

His wife nodded once. "Shall I fetch your pipe too, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please," he said, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He gave his wife a kiss upon the forehead before sitting back before the fire. "And my newspaper, if you would, darling. I like to do the crossword before supper."

Mary-Sue Greyback simply rolled her eyes.

_**I have seen far too may Greyback/OC pairings in which the OC is quite clearly a Mary-Sue, Greyback is a wonderful, caring man, and the plot is ridiculously inconsistent. This is a parody of those kind of storie, and, yes, the ever-changing Blood Status of Mary-Sue Greyback is intentional.**_

_**For She-Earl and Dean.**_

_**Merry Christmas Everyone!**_


End file.
